


shake it up

by negativecosine



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crossdressing Kink, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face Sitting, Femdom, Incest, Oral Sex, Panties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, Vibrators, light slapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:39:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/negativecosine/pseuds/negativecosine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose walks in on Dave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. to break my own fall

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Irrumatrix(!!) for the editing, and thanks to Dinocar for the excellent prompt. Hope you like it! I had _way_ too much fun with this~

"Wow," she says when she walks in. She pauses for an extremely calculated beat, and then helpfully adds, "Oh, Dave, wow." 

You are really not sure if that means 'wow dave you have hit on every genderfuck kink i can possibly contain in my soft little body' or 'wow dave you are going to stretch out my underwear and then i am going to murder you with them.' With Rose it's pretty much a half/half chance that it's going to be one of those, and definitely a zero chance that it's neither. You're either about to get very laid, or very dead, this is absolutely clear. 

You can't actually see her, but you hear the sound of her glass when she sets it down, and you hear her soft footsteps when she comes closer. You still have no idea if you're about to die or not, but no future Daves have shown up to try and intervene, which is usually a sign. (Not a _good_ sign. Just a sign.) You're face-down, and the vibrator inside you is insistent enough that you can't really bring yourself to shut it down and sit up and turn around to look at her. Also, all of those things are things you really really don't want to do.

You do scream a little bit when she touches your ass. 

"Dave," she says, and that is definitely a warning. She rests her hand on your ass and it is everything you can do not to squeal again, except her hand is cool and dry and solid and honestly even if she decides to kill you for the _disgusting_ amount of precome soaking through her stolen panties, you can think of a lot of worse ways you've died. 

"Make it quick," you say, which is easily the shortest sentence you've ever said to Rose ever, but also you are drooling a spot into the sheets and her hand is pressing, pulling and spreading you, and you can't see her but you can clearly picture the blank look she gets on her face when she's calculating. What she's calculating right now is the probably clearly-visible dial on the vibrator. It is on a low setting and is already quite visibly shaking you apart. She's going to do it, you're completely certain. She's not certain, yet, you can tell by her little huff of breath, but you're certain in her stead. 

"Very rude," she finally says, and her thumb brushes just along the rim of skin where you're stretched around the vibe. You can feel the dry catch before her skin slicks up with the lube there, and you both gasp aloud at that. (She gasps very quietly, and you gasp _very_ loudly. You're thankful that it's a little muffled in the bed.) "If you'd asked first, I'd have given you something nicer, you know." Her hand slides down in between your thighs, just barely brushing your skin, to pluck at the elastic. "This one- it's pretty, but the seams can't be comfortable, can they? Satin's always like that." 

You debate with yourself regarding your pride and your inability to keep your mouth shut for about 0.001 seconds before groaning, "No, I-"

"Unless you _like_ to feel it cutting into you like that," she cuts you off, and snaps the elastic. It's sitting tight just behind your balls, and your hard-on pressing it out pulls it harder against your skin. The soft, sudden sting of it makes you whine. "If you've ever worn a pair all day... You haven't, yet, have you? But you'd like to. But they press lines into your skin, I'm sure you've figured that out, mark you all day... This pair, this pair would be fine for that." She presses the cloth back in against your skin, snug up against your taint, and she's right, it's clingy and itchy in a way that doesn't let you forget about it for even a second, and you _love_ that, and more than that you love that she _knows_. 

"Rose," you say, because you have to say _something_ , have to try and tell her what she's doing to you, what that light, cool, single point of contact _does_ to you. 

"You can keep this pair," she answers, and then you jump, because both of her hands are on you now, because you can feel the weight shift on the mattress where she's kneeling up behind you. She's still got one hand pressed into the satin against your skin, the back of her knuckles all delicate and sharp, but her other hand's tracing your hole, stroking just barely at where the vibe's stuck in you. "Maybe we can negotiate another pair for daily wear. I have some red ones," she adds, and jostles the vibrator a little. You groan (a lot) and push your hips up and back against her hands. She pulls back, gives you a hard pinch on the thigh, digs her nail in. It just makes you louder, which may have been her actual intention anyways. 

"I'm turning it up now," she tells you, and it takes you a second to figure out what the hell she means. The vibe is a constant, dull buzz, and it's been keeping you at a low, constant thrumming level of 'oh god what am i going to do with all these boners' for long enough that you sort of forgot that it could- ah. This is that hard, cheap plastic kind of toy, alchemized and sort of hapless, except that it can turn up really high. Like bone-rattling, grab-the-sheets-and- _yell_ kind of jackhammering speed. Rose has got to be holding it in you, because you're squeezing down and bucking back against it hard, and you know from experience that you can eject this thing with impressive velocity, and she's just- holding it, not moving it, just giving you a solid point of contact while you rattle yourself to pieces. 

About ten seconds in, you figure out the other reason Rose is holding the vibe still- you can't get it at the right angle like this, you can't come. Your legs are too short, or your spine just doesn't bend that way, or something, so no matter how you try and stretch up and fuck yourself back against her hands, there's just no way. Her free hand's still tight up behind your balls, just a constant intentional pressure, and your whole body feels hot and tight and shivery, and you can't come like this, and you really want to know how she _knows_ that. Is she testing out some weird arcane theoretical dick-knowledge from reading way too much gay wizard smut, or does she know because she's been around the taint-handling block a few times, or _what_ \- but you're too distracted to pay that line of thinking too much attention, because she's _still going_ , oh god, fuck. 

"Rose," you sort of gasp loudly into the mattress, fisting the sheets beside where you're face-planted. "Lalonde. Come on." 

"Ungentlemanly," she says, and gives the thing a little jiggle. You spike _so close_ to orgasm your vision whites out a little, but it's not enough. You choke a little, try to spread your hips, push up on your toes, anything to get her to push it _down_ just a little, just give it to you. "You're absolutely not going to come first, you know." 

" _Rose_ ," you whine, because honestly this is the first indication she's given that she's even slightly turned on, but you have no idea how the hell she can expect you to fuck her when you're this worked up- there's no way in hell you wouldn't just go off the minute she touched your dick. 

In answer, she withdraws her hands. You make an absolutely wretched noise, and she slaps you lightly on the hip. "Turn over. Keep your legs spread. Do not-" she flicks at the vibe lightly, and it jerks, "-let this fall out." 

You do your best to obey- your arms are all shaky and weird, and you can barely haul yourself up enough and keep the presence of mind to stay clenched down around the toy, but you manage. On your back, even the dim light in the room is a little too bright, and you throw an arm over your face immediately. Rose immediately smacks it out of the way, delicate and back-handed. It's too much effort to fight her on it, but with your arms loose over your head and your legs fallen so wide your hips feel unhinged, it's... it's too much, it's too vulnerable, you've got nowhere to hide, and so you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your hips and hope you don't die when she breathes on your boner. 

"I'm not going to touch that," Rose says after a second, and it takes you another second to figure out what the hell she's talking about. "Yes, that," she says, when your face presumably does... something expressive. "That is your problem, you deal with that. Open your eyes." 

You do, but not because she told you to. You just want to see what the hell she's doing, that's all. 

What she's doing, as it turns out, is hiking up her skirt and pushing down her panties. She kicks them off, but not before she shows you the little silk bow in front. You deeply, deeply hope she forgets to take them with her after this. And then she just sort of... climbs on you. 

"Eyes open," she has to remind you, when she's straddling your face, kneeled up over you. You have never been more turned on in your _life_ , and the fucking vibrator's still just wrecking you, and you spare yourself a second to squeeze your eyes tight hard, then look up at her. She looks like she always looks: like she knows something you don't, and is going to torment you with it. You figure you really only have one option, here, and so you lean up and lick her clit. 

You thought, actually, this would have good results. You know the basic theory of the clitoris, and you also know that you're hot and shivery all over and if she's not going to touch your dick then, fine, you still need contact _somewhere_. All she does, though, is tense and exhale slightly, then fist one hand in your hair and push your head back down into the mattress. 

"Two options," she tells you, while you fight to stop yourself from straining your neck against her grip. "You can turn it off, and use your hands, or you can leave it on, and no hands." 

"No hands," you gasp immediately. "Get down here, Rose, _fuck_ ," and then you can't talk anymore because she settles a lot of weight right on your open mouth, and wow, oh, wow. Your eyes half-close, and she tugs your hair to remind you, and her other hand goes down to pin your wrists together over your head. 

"Of course," she says, as she rocks down on you. You're gratified to hear her breathing hard already, but any thought you had of gloating about it doesn't form fully enough to follow through. Not that you could, anyways. It's all you can do to catch a breath when she gives you space, and keep your teeth the hell out of the way. Her weight is all on your face, or on her wrists, and her rocking jostles the whole of you. "You'll always choose the hard way, won't you?" 

You sort of groan into her, because you figure out that you're just flexible enough to hitch your knees up, get one heel pressed up against the base of the vibe, and she fucks you down on it, moves your whole body down on the bed and it finally, _finally_ gets the right angle. You're almost numb, it's so hard, and it just hammers up into you and she's yanking your hair and digging her nails into your wrist. She's not stopping to let you breathe anymore, just grinds down on you so hard your jaw aches, hard enough that you can't _do_ anything, just let her fuck you. 

You actually have no memory of coming. The first conscious thing you can figure out is gasping in desperate breaths around her, dizzy and shaking and your eyes are wide open but you can barely see her, the lights in front of your eyes feel so bright. The next thing you observe is that she's frozen still on top of you, tight and shuddering, her head thrown back so you can't feel her face. Her hands are clenching at you, and then they go slack, and she slows to a stop. 

You whine when she delicately dismounts, and whine again when she switches the vibrator off and slides it out of you. When you finally sit up, squirm out of the ruined panties, and look at her, she's perfectly dressed again, smoothing her hair down. If it weren't for the light flush in her cheeks, you'd never know. "You can keep them," she says softly. It's maybe the first time you've ever heard her sound so- so _earnest_. It's far more unnerving than the usual sweetly-plotting voice. And she locates her drink, and she goes. 

You find, later, where she tossed the black ones. She's right- the cotton's much softer. Much better for everyday wear.


	2. always one foot on the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose would like a quick favor. Apparently.

It's not actually that unusual for Rose to interrupt you while you're in the kitchen. It's usually to poach sandwiches or criticize your dishwashing technique, though, she doesn't usually just come up behind you and grab you by the jaw. You drop a dish, which manages to both shatter on the faucet and send a splash of soapy water all over your shirt, and you try to protest, but her hand's pretty tight over your mouth and she's kind of dragging you backwards into a broom closet. 

Her hand's soft and small and smells good, but she's got a surprisingly strong grip, and she's pretty capable of shoving you into the closet despite your stumble and muffled protests. You consider strifing her, but you also consider your sudden boner. And the likelihood that she could take you out without you ever getting your hand on your sword. 

But mostly your boner. 

She turns you around, but covers your mouth again, and goes straight for your jeans with her free hand. _Jesus_ , what? 

"Take your pants off," she's hissing, and you can't really see her in the dark in here, shades on, but the pale blob of her face is close to yours, like she's up on her toes to get at you. You manage to get your shit together pretty quick, and knock her other hand out of the way so you can get the button and zip done, and you groan into your hand when you shove them down and your dick bobs up against the back of her wrist. 

" _Off_ ," she repeats, kind of whisper-yelling, and lets go of your mouth to take your jeans and boxers in two little fists and jerk them down past your knees. "Come on, shoes, shit." 

Okay. Slightly weirder. She's frantic and breathing hard, you only just notice this now, it's so rare that it didn't totally register, but fuck, whatever, you kick out of your shoes and jeans fast as you can manage without tipping over or kneeing her where she's down there being completely in the way. She straightens up and presses herself flat against you when they're off, and you screw up your eyes when your dick smears a little wet spot into the cloth of her skirt. 

Her breath puffs hot somewhere around your neck, and she... does something with her hands that you can't really see, but it's sure as hell not touching you, for some reason. You pop your shades up to check, and oh, okay, no that's cool too. She's got both hands up under her skirt, and it drapes in a way where you can't really see anything under that, but you can see the way her wrists twist and flex, and you can see her staring up at you with a look of furious concentration, and your main contribution to the whole situation is to get her skirt stickier. You're- really fucking wet, and you can feel the back of her hand through the thin cloth, pushed up against you, and you make a sound that sounds like whining but is definitely not whining, and you're about to ask, or beg, or something, when she pulls out a hand and wraps it around your shoulder. It's sticky-wet and you can _smell_ her, fuck, and you catch her wrist with both hands and lick her fingers helplessly, just once, before you let her push you down onto your knees. 

She slaps your hands out of the way when you try to lift her skirt, and again when you try to rest them on her thighs. You get the idea pretty quick, and lock them behind you, and try not to whine again when she barely hitches up the skirt herself, hooks one leg over your shoulder, and leans hard onto your face. She's wearing silk- you can't tell which pair it is, can't see the color or cut of them, but you know that texture on your tongue way too well by now. She twists one hand up in your hair, and presumably is bracing the other one on a shelf or wall or something, because she's got the leverage now to rock forward, bumping impatiently against your mouth. You open up dutifully, swipe out a lick across the wet silk, and moan despite yourself. Rose gives your head a little jerk, tilts it back, and rocks down again, setting her own rhythm. You're pretty much fine with that- the cloth tucks into her folds, wets down slick onto her skin, and you can feel the hot pulse each time she pushes her clit down onto you, can taste where she's starting to drip around the sides of the panties. 

She keeps her rhythm perfectly, is incredibly fucking generous in letting you anticipate and push up against her, though that's about all you can manage to do, really. Your knees ache and you're digging your nails into your wrists behind your back and you're gonna have one hell of a crick in your neck after this, but you're hard and leaking messily on the floor in front of you, and every time she lets out even the smallest gasp your dick twitches and you groan against her skin. 

She can't keep the position long, and you know when she decides it's time because she tells you, soft and breathy, "I'm going to fuck your face now, Dave." It's all the warning you get to suck in a fast breath before she seals your face hard against her clit and grinds down in quick little jerks. Her leg is clenched and twitching around your shoulder, and her hand's cruelly tight in your hair. You're going dizzy from need and breathlessness when she finally comes, shakes herself to a standstill, then untangles and pulls back. You instinctively lean forward to follow, mouth still hanging open, face wet, shades crushed against your forehead. She untangles her hand from your hair, smooths it down a little, and gently pulls your shades back down. 

"Rose," you say, weakly, because what the fuck else can you possibly say. You think if you don't come, you might actually die. 

"Don't wash that off," she says. Her skirt has fallen back down around her, and she has to hitch it back up. She peels the soaking panties down, steps out of them delicately, and straightens. "Stand up." 

You stand, shaky and weak, and have to sag back against the shelves to stay even a little bit upright. She crouches, and taps at your ankles. You blink down fuzzily at her, and she taps again. 

Oh. 

You lift one foot, then the other, step into the panties, and try to stay silent and upright as she slides them up your legs. They're so wet the catch at your thighs, and when she smooths them up against your balls they feel like skin. You do whimper more when the elastic snaps a little against your dick, and then you whimper a lot more when she takes it in one cool, sticky hand and carefully tucks it in, so it lays heavy to one side inside the panties. 

"Jeans and shoes," she says, and taps your hip. 

"You can't be serious." 

"Here, I'll help." 

You feel flayed open, wrecked and vulnerable, and helplessly letting her dress you isn't doing anything to assuage that. The denim feels impossibly rough on your skin, now, even through the underwear. Your boxers lay discarded somewhere in a corner, and you cannot bring yourself to even slightly care. You toe on your shoes obediently when she gets them in front of you, though you're not above stamping the heel of them down to avoid lacing. You let her button and zip you, let her smooth down your shirt and fuss at your hair again, let her nudge your shades back up where they're sliding down your nose. She takes you in, apparently decides she's satisfied with what she sees, and pats you sweetly on the chest before straightening her own hair and clothes a bit. "Don't take them off all day," she says, and gives your hip another little pat. "You may go to your room after this, and you can come in them, but you can't take them off until you go to sleep." She looks at you, eyes narrowed a little for a moment, then softens. "Is this okay?" she adds, belatedly. 

"Yy. Yeah," you manage, not totally trusting your own voice. "When do you want them-" 

"I'll come collect them when it's time for that," she says quickly. She leans up, all the way on tiptoe, and manages to reach your chin for a brief, sticky kiss before she goes.


End file.
